I catch them and then become the leader on the way down.
When we’re far enough away, safe in the thick foliage, I turn and look up at the looming gray building and watch in awe. Two police officers scale the steps of the entrance of the building and then three figures lazily drop from the brick porch on the opposite side. One of them has blond curls. It’s Veronica, Kravitz and Wheeling. All of them walking as if taking a stroll through the park instead of being chased by police. Veronica seeming to be the least concerned.
No worries.
No fear.
Just courage.
Now that is impressive.
VERONICA
“Have the new people moved in?” Dad asks over my cell.
It’s late and my eyesight is blurry from exhaustion. After one of Sawyer Sutherland’s merry band of mean friends was stupid enough to trigger an alarm and bring the police, Nazareth, Leo and I drove around town with the windows down and the music blaring. Of course, Nazareth being Nazareth, he saw a stray puppy with a collar and we had to find the owners, but it’s fun to be the hero for a few minutes.
After that, they dropped me off at the Save Mart where I’m an assistant manager so I could help close for the evening since one of the other employees left early with the stomach flu. Dad and I are always hustling for money, and because Dad is preparing for the day I get so sick that he’ll quit his job and his entire life to take care of me, he shoves a ton of what we make into savings. I do what I can to add to the pot.
I have him on speaker as I sit at the desk in our living room and search through file folders, searching for Evelyn’s diary. It’s a copy of a diary from a library in upstate New York. One my mother had heard about and asked to see, and they were nice enough to send. The same one I saw in Sawyer Sutherland’s hands tonight, and I have no idea how he got it.
Those papers were securely placed in a hope chest in my room. No one knew I kept the diary there, not even Dad. I have ransacked nearly every part of my house in search of the copy, hoping against hope that, besides me, Sawyer is the only other person in the world who owns a copy. This riddle is driving me insane—how did Sawyer get his hands on my transcript of Evelyn’s diary?
“V,” Dad says. “I asked if the new people are done moving in.”
“I guess.” I shove all the accounting files for Dad’s business back into the drawer.
Relaxing on the circular window seat and listening to me and Dad chat, Mom stares into the night. She’s peaceful, as if there’s not a problem in the world. I wish I could feel that way for thirty seconds. “I don’t see them hauling in any more boxes.”
Dad and I are close. From the way people talk at school, we’re closer than most parent-child relationships, but I don’t feel like telling him that the guy who moved in downstairs was making fun of me. As much as I hate to admit it, their words hurt. Plus, Dad will kill him for upsetting me, and it would suck to have to visit Dad in prison.
“All the gas receipts are officially scanned into the computer and logged,” I say.
“Thanks.” Dad sounds as drowsy as I feel. He drives long hours before taking the mandatory rest period the government insists truckers take. In the background, I can hear the TV in the sleeper of his cab.
Dad tells me about a character of a waiter he had at the truck stop diner and the story makes me laugh. As he talks, I check my school email and find a reply from my teacher.
I had nicely begged for permission to do the research project on my own. Her answer was short, simple and to the point: No. One of the purposes of this project is to learn how to work with others. This is an essential skill you will need for your future.
I disagree. Wholeheartedly. I have absolutely no intentions of doing anything in my future that involves me working with groups of people.
“Did you deposit the rental check?” Dad asks, drawing me out of my melancholy mood.
“Yep.”
“Tomorrow, not tonight, as you need to get some sleep, can you set up all the new spreadsheets for these tenants?”
I’ve already started